


Fears

by Jupiterra



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: One Shot, POV Germany (Hetalia), deep thoughts, rusame is not focus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 17:38:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12487212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiterra/pseuds/Jupiterra
Summary: Germany thinking about things after a meeting. It gets intense.





	Fears

Germany shuffled loose papers into a neat pile. Another European Union only meeting had gone well, different from the standard world meetings. All the members of the EU were packed closely together sharing far less time zones. This resulted in many more meetings, with less nations in jet lag induced comas. They could also be shorter and more efficient, with far less arguing.

Germany paused his meticulous organizing, glancing at one of the chairs around the table. France and a few others had been stubborn in not removing it. A few even seemed hopeful that the cantankerous Britain would reappear horribly late for a meeting like he always did since 1973. The sandy blonde with unfortunate eyebrows had always been noncommittal at best with EU matters. At least he showed up, even if tardiness was a sin in itself.

Germany hadn't even taken Britain seriously when he first threatened to leave the EU. The island nation was a continuous vendor of complaints and wistful threats after all. But now it might be a reality. This very meeting had been put together to discuss the possibility of Britain leaving. How would things change? Who would pick up the slack in certain markets to maintain status quo? The previously unthinkable topic had been finally breached and examined. Even now, a few late British citizens were still voting whether to leave with a massive referendum.

The severe blonde stared at his now perfect stack of papers with tented fingers, worried. He honestly hoped Britain would stay. No family was perfect, but trying to keep the bonds was what mattered. Germany was ripped from thought as a drunken song drifted into the empty meeting room. He tensed and stood. Did an EU member come back because they forgot their phone? That was a surprisingly common issue.

He cringed when he realized the off key song was in a rumbling accent. A very familiar one. Russia. Why in hell was that war dog stomping around Berlin outside of a world meeting? He had openly stated how much he hated the city in the past. “Kaliiinka, kalinkaaa, kaliiinkaaa moyaaaa!” another horrid chorus started up as a very drunk Russia stumbled into the dim room. His butchered song ended abruptly as he grinned maliciously.

“Priiivet Germany!” the absurdly drunk Slav greeted, falling into a wooden chair. Germany internally fretted over repair costs as he heard wood crack from the force of Russia's graceless movement. “Um, hallo Russia.” Germany replied nervously. “I have... news! Yes! News for you.” the drunk exclaimed, fishing various objects from his ever present long coat. Six knives, a pistol, several granola bars and a vodka flask were carelessly dumped onto the table top.

Flushed from drink, Russia covered his face. “Oy, I... Ah, where is it? Da, da, papers.” he muttered to himself, pulling a crumpled mess of papers out of yet another pocket. How many pockets did the guy have? “You must see!” he cheered, bouncing the ball of papers off Germany's chest. The strict blonde frowned but unraveled the wad of notes directed at him.

Germany paled upon reading the crumpled legal papers. It was the unofficial tally of the still open 'Brexit' referendum. The votes were so close it was troubling. Brits were 0.7% in favor of leaving. It was only 0.7%, so... so people would realize how stupid this all was. The votes... there had to be more votes. It was only 0.7%...

“You know, as soon as that noisy insect leaves, they'll all leave you. You and your precious union. I had union meetings once, I had... people. No more people! I don't... don't need people! And you don't need them either, because you'll be alone, like me. You'll be all alone... and... no family...” Russia rambled, clearly as distraught as he was inebriated. Germany was concerned the ancient nation might start bursting into tears from how passionately he ranted.

It was a lesser miracle when another voice echoed in the outside. “Ivan! Where are you, you big drunk bastard!?” the loud voice of America rang out. A somewhat disheveled nation appeared in the open door, though no where near as destroyed as Russia. “Don't dare make me run, my stomach is like... fuck, where are we?” America slurred slightly, squinting through his glasses.

“Oh, hey bratwurst. How's it hanging?” the super power greeted genially, managing to walk in a straight line towards the table. “Okay.” Germany answered curtly, suddenly in a rush to pack up his things. Nothing good ever happened when two war obsessed nations were drunk in the same room.

“Don't mind this guy. He's like... super sad when he's smashed.” America dismissed with an airy wave of his hand. “I'm... not sad! I'm fine. Fine, fine, fine!” Russia threatened with wet eyes, burying his face in long coat sleeves. “Yeah ignore his 'world is ending speech'. Let's get going, you sad bastard.” Alfred continued, barely avoiding tripping while prying the Russian dead weight off the now broken chair.

“I am not sad! I am mighty Russian Federation, first to go to the space! I am powerful and... sexy! Sexy, you stupid American cow!” Russia argued clumsily as the pair hobbled out of the room. As their harmless quarreling faded into the distance, Germany compulsively smoothed every wrinkle out of the papers tossed at him.

Russia's clear warning haunted the severe blond. The European Union would be okay. It was nothing like the cruel regime of the Soviet Union, enforced by military power and suppression. Germany, along with France and several Nordic players, were mostly kind to each other. They was most good times between the nations these days.

The ghostly fear and torment of Russia's lightly scarred expression... Germany would never be in that... not again. He had big brother Gilbert, and Italy, and his dogs, and Austria... The nation sat alone in the dim meeting room, pondering his fate.

He would never be like Russia, abandoned and alone... right?

**Author's Note:**

> Like what you see? Comment or leave a kudos!


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